AW
Bellefonte, Pa., Oct. 6, 1893.
NEWSPAPER.
THE
BY LINUS DIBFLE, OF SAYBROOK.
God bless the man, who invented the plan,
To give us the news of the day.
if they were mum, we'd all be dumb,
If some folks had their way.
Pause and conjecture, list to my lecture,
As you take up the ink-smelling sheet,
How could you part, with the life-giving art
Amid life’s burdensome heat.
To you he comes, or gladly runs,
Alike in joy or sorrow, :
While you're asleep, that he may greet.
With good news of the morrow.
Blot out the press and bring distress,
With nought a soul to cheer,
The light gone out, you're left in doubt,
A reign of terror near.
How oft it cheers and kist the tears
When all was dark and black
‘When damp of death, left all bereft,
It brought the sunshine back.
Tho’ words were few, like early dew,
Those words lay on my soul ;
Till morning came I blessed the name
That did console.
Some hate the paper, nor care a taper,
It’s a bad habit they have got ;
Better go back, se an old quack,
And lay in theifarrow and rot.
They find Hfarlt with the news, insut and
abuse,
There's nothing in papers that's real ;
We'll blow out the taper, by stopping the
paper,
And send them all to Sheol.
Sometimes we hear a clergyman swear,
Denouncethem to-morrow :and sich ;
Then weifeel sure, with slight demure
With disreputable papers he'll hitch.
‘The'man let me say, who reads the paper
Sods
Yourcantell a mile away; :
The girls are brighter, their burdens lighter
"Theyimake better wives, they say.
A tombstone man from his own funeral ran,
wD rmhal do you read,” I cried,
“MyiBible, begor, and nothing more.”
And:he sighed.
The'bible, read it with your eye
"You cannot prize its sacred truths of yore,
‘Onee read it with heart, ’twill then impart,
Joys unknown before.
‘What ? sir ? we must know thoughts as they go,
dIf'we would be happyand see
That our spirit keeps, with the life blood that
leaps
{In'the genius of 93.
A paper to read iswhat we need,
“To solace our weary hours ;
JAnd pay for it too, without a boohoo
‘While here amidst sunshine and showers.
HIS WIFE'S ALARM.
«It Was Caused by the Lies of a Rascally Jani-
tor.
“I tell you, boys,” I said, “if I was
not a married man, I should go to the
races on Monday and put all I'm worth
-on Razzle Dazzle.”
Bik don’t you?” asked Tom Mur-
+ y.
» “Why ?” said I. “Ob, I'm a mar-
‘ried man, and my wife has a horror of
theraces, I've promised her to keep
away from them. A promise is a
promise.”
“And good enough you’ve made it,
sir,” said our old porter. Honest Jim
we called him. “Many a man has
.gone down to ruin and degradation on
account -of them races. The lady is
wise. ‘She is wise. I'm telling you
‘what {I mane. Obey the lady, and
you'll never see yourselt in difficulties.”
‘Honest Jim was fond of giving ad-
vice, apd he broke up our chat with
these words. Murphy and Wiggins
went away to get a glass of beer before
‘they parted, and I took the train home.
A brooding storm broke just as I
reached my cottage, and glad enough
was I to escane it. We had supper
together and wenc into the parlor as
usual. "What a night it was, to be
sure!
A wild nignt, a bitter night, a night
when their seemed to be strange voices
in the wind, and those within the
house were likely to fancy knocks up-
on their doors and unbar and unbelt
them and ery : “Who is there?’ when
it was only the blast that had caused
them sto rattle. Yet it was on this
night.that my wife, my little, delicate,
beautiful wife Fleda arose from the
ireside;and telling me that she would
return shortly, left the room.
To leave the room was nothing, but
when {I beard her leave the
house I could scarcely believe my
senses. She was eo timid—she who—
Why, mo, it could not be. I went
-about the house calling her. I grew
-alarmed, and, fearing to find her lying
in a swoon somewhere, carried the
lamp low :and looked in the garret, the
cellar, the little kitchen where cooking
was doneiin summer—everywhere, in
fact.
She was gone, and so was the cloak,
that usually hung in a certain place,
-and a hood she woreabout the grounds
on cold.days. What could have tak-
«en her out? Had she heard our pony
fidgeting iin his stall or the peep of
some siray chicken? Was she anx-
ious about the day-old calf? We had
all these rural belongings in the small
‘boundary of our little sammer-home.
If so, why .did she not mention it to
we? It was, no doubt, that cold of
mine, which I had made too much fuss
about. She went herself rather than
expose me. I tossed on my waterproof
coat pulled an old hat over my ears and
went out upon the porch. The lantern
was gone,
“Fleda!” I cried, lifting my voice,
“Fleda, I say! Where are you, Fle-
da?”
I heard no sound, but shortly, far
along the road, I spied a yellow blur
waving near the ground, and knew,
when I had watched it for some time,
that it was a lantern carried by some
one to light ber steps along the irregu-
lar foot-path. I say her,” because
shortly I could see the drapery of a
woman's dress. It was my wife, re-
turning home. I was certain of that
now, and I called to her at once :
Fleda, why on earth are you strag-
gling about in the storm? Why didn’t
you send me to do what you wanted
done? The wind is strong enough to car-
ry you over the hille. I've been wild
about you.”
She came up to me as I uttered
these words. Her long, light hair,
usually as smooth as a piece of satin,
tossed about her face and shoulders,
her hood hanging down her back, her
cloak twisted about her slender figure.
She turned to speak, but could not;
her breath failed her. I put my arm
about her and helped her to the house
and eo far as the sofa in our little
parlor, on which she dropped gasping.
“All this,” I said, “for some chicken
with the pip, I suppose!”
“J did not know the wind was so
strong.” .
And I asked no more questions.
My anxiety for Fleda swallowed up
every other thought. However, she
was perfectly well next day, though
curiously depressed and abstracted.
I have not yet introduced myself. [
am Henry Carrington. My business
was that of cashier with the Dayton
Brothers. My wife and I lived simply
in a tiny out-of-town «cottage in sum-
mer ; in a tinier flat in winter. I had
never been extravagant, and my only
great folly had been to risk a certain
sum of money, left me as a legacy, at
the races. I backed the favorite and
lost every dollar. Fleda was very
much distressed when I told ‘her the
news.
“Not at the loss of the money, Hen:
ry,” she said, ‘but ‘that you should
risk it at the races. My uncle once
employed a young man who became
dishonest and was finally arrested be-
cauee of going to the races and betting
and all that. Pray, pray, be carefal.”
I laughed at her, and told her that I
had sufficient warning and punishment
in losing the snug nest egg I had striv-
en to treble. This was ‘the previous
summer. Now the races were going
on again. They were, I own, my great-
est earthly temptation.
The week passed quietly. Pay night
came again. It often happens that
the same night is stormy for several
succeeding weeks. This night, how:
ever, was not as ‘bad as the one on
which my story opens. However, it
was much more comfortable indoors
than out. And yet, just as I wasin
the middle of a paragraph 1 was read-
ing to her from the evening paper, I
looked up and saw that Fleda had van-
ished. Again I searched the house.
Again found that she had left it.
Again the yellow light of the lantern
told me of her return. She was not
«out of breath this time, but she was
pale and trembled a little. She shook
her head when I asked her where she
had been, and said :
“Nowhere. The house felt close.
T wanted alittle air. That is all.”
“You did'not find what I was read-
ing interesting 7" said I.
“I assure you—'’ she began, then
broke cff suddenly. “Don’t talk about
it" she cried. “Don’t! Don’t I pray,
don’t'talk about it!”
I did not talk, but I thought a good
deal, and I had reason to think. Day
by day I noticed that Fleda was grad-
ually growing thinner and paler. Her
-8pirits were deserting her. And when
the same day of the week came around,
she left the house as mysteriously as
before. The presence of a guest pre-
wented me from following her; but I
discovered that, in order to keep the
knowledge of her absence from the
house from me, she entered the store-
room, climbed out of the window at
the risk of her neck and returned in
the same manner. Moreover, I dis-
covered on the gill a few scattered coins
—a iten-cent piece and two pennies—
which told me that she had dropped a
portion of some money that she had
taken with her. All this made me
very ‘unhappy. I detested mysteries,
and it was evident that one of the sort
which iI had always thought unnatural
when introduced into the pages of nov-
els bad arisen 1n my quiet little home.
{ remembered that I had met my
wife by chance; that our introduction
was brought about by a chance ac-
quaintance, who really knew nothing
of either of us; that she was alone in
the world, without any living relative,
or claimed to be so; a teacher of mu-
sic, with few pupils, making a hard
struggle for life. Very possibly a dis-
reputable father or brother had turned
up, to whom’ she was obliged to give
assistance,.and whom she did not wish
me to know. It was a pity, but I
would have no more of this. I would
get at the truth and help her if I
could. Then a terrible thought oc:
curred to me, What if it should
prove that she had married early in
life; that a worthless husband bad re-
turned, and that she was trying to get
rid of him? In that case what a goose
I would be to meddle and force upon
myself a terrible knowledge which I
might avoid. :
It was cowardly, perhaps, but I
lowed Fleda so dearly that I had rath-
er he deceived in such a way—1I never
doubted her utter itruth for one mo-
ment-—than to be undeceived to my
misery. And, hoping against hope, I
permitted two more weeks to pass by
without doing anything whatever.
Then came an hour when graver
doubts possessed me. My wife had
sold her diamond earrings which my
sister had given her upon her wedding
day. I came by this knowledge while
examining her desk for letters, and I
believed that she intended to give the
money thus raised ito the mysterious
persons who had the power to call her
from her fireside when he pleased.
The might on which I followed her
was as beautiful as night could be,
The air was warm and full of the
breath of flowers. My wife wore a
white dress and a pretty hat with dais-
ies around the brim. She had told me
a deliberate falsehood, asking me to
stay at home to receive a friead who
might call while she went to the dress-
maker’s house.
A wild hope that she kad only been
to this dressmaker before, and that
the jewels were sold to pay some ex-
travagant bill, filled my heart, but it
vanished as I followed her, and saw
her leave the road after going a few
paces, and take a by-path which ran
back into our own orchard. It was a
small place full of old apple trees. The
moonlight failed to fill it, but I saw
amidst the shadcws of the foliage the
' darker shadow of a man’s figure.
“Ye've kept me waiting,” be whis-
pered.
“I could not help it,” my wife re-
| plied.
| The man gave a low growl.
“Ye've got the money?’ he said,
“For your own intherest you've got
the money, the five hundred dollars.”
Where had I heard that voice be-
fore ?
“No, my wife faltered, “not 80 much;
the jeweler would only give me three
hundred, but I have that.”
“Ye must raise the other two,”
growled the man. “Oh, you'll do it, it
it won't be a great dale to pay to save
them we know of from twenty years in
jail. Produce} it and tell me whi, or
afther all, I'll tell the truth; it's my
duty anyway.”
“Oh, good Heaven! I've given you
all I have!” cried my poor wife. “I
can get no more.”
She seemed almost to faint. What-
ever this mystery might be, it was my
duty to defend her.
I strode out of the shadow, and with-
out warning, stood before them.
“Fleda,” I cried, “what does this
mean ? Whom are you talking to? I
must know! I will know! Do you fan.
cy I have been blind to your meetings
with this scoundrel ?”
“Oh, don’t speak so, dearest!” she
cried. “Don’t anger him. Go away,
You don’t know your danger.”
“Danger !’”” I cried, clutching the
collar of the man, who strove to rush
past me. “Come; let me see whom I
have here.”
I dragged him into the light, and
saw our porter, Honest Jim, and no
other.
“Jim, by all that is comical!” I
said. “And what is he to you, wife?”
“Oh, don’t! Don't!” cried Fleda.
“He knows alll He knows all!
“Fleda,” said I, “whatever he may
know about you, have no fear. You
are my wife. I love you. Nothing
can alter that.”
“Oh, it isn’t I, Henry! It is you!
He knows all about Razzle Dazzle,
and what you did to get the money to
bet on him. [It was such a temptation
I know, my poor husband! And he
swore he would not betray you if I
gave him five hundred dollars. But
I have not been able to raise it. I
will, though. Spare my husband, and
I will! Yes! Oh, Iwillearn itsome-
how !”’ cried Fleda wildly.
“What confounded blackmailing
trick is this?’ said I shaking Honest
Jim furiously.
“P’lase, let me go!” groaned Jim,
“You put it into my head with your
talk of your missus fearing you'd go
wrong. I was up before you the night
of the storrum, and she met me,
and wus aisy tuk in. An’ I
tried it ag'in. You an’ the divil put
it into my head. Here's the money
back. Don’t choke me! Here is the
money back.”
“What did be tell you, you silly
child ?” I asked Fleda.
“That you had robbed your employ-
ers to get money to stake on Razzle
Dazzle,” said she. ‘My only thought
has been how, to save you.”
“Go!” I said to Honest Jim.
“Show your face in the office again if
you dare!”
I dismissed him with a kick and
took Fleda in my arms.
“So you'd be true to me it I were
both fool and rascal 2’ said I. *‘Poor
little ‘goosy T”
“And you'd love me if I had some
strange story in my life?” said Fleda.
And we were very happy as we
walked home together, arm in arm,
my wife and I.—M. Cady in N., Y.
Ledger.
He Washed the Tiger.
When Pezon, the lion taher, was at
Moscow with his menagerie, he hired a
Cossack to clean out the cage of the wild
beasts. The Cossack did not under-
stand a word of French. Pezon tried
to show him about his work by motions
with a pail and sponge. The moujik
watched him closely and seemed to un-
derstand. Next morning, armed with
a broom, a bucket and a sponge, he
opened the first cage he came to and
quietly stepped in. He had seen his
master step into two cages of harmless
brutes, bot this one happened to belong
to a splendid tiger that lay on the floor
fast asleep.
At the noise made by opening the
door the creature raised its head and
turned its eyes full on the man, who
stood in a coraer dipping his big sponge
into the bucket. Atthat moment Pezon
came out and was struck dumb with
the sight. What could he do to warn
the man? A sound might enrage the
great beast. So Pezon stood still. The
moujik, sponge in hand, coolly approa-
ched the tiger and made ready to rub
him down.
The coid water on its hide pleased the
tiger, for it began to purr, stretched out
its paws, rolled over on its back and of-
fered every part of its body to the treat-
ment of the moujik, who went on
scrubbing with might and main, All
the while Pezon stood there with his
eyes wide open as if nailed to the spot.
When he had finished his job, the Cous-
sack left the cage as quietly as he enter-
ed it. But he never did it again.—Lon-
don Million,
cece ESHER 7 or.
Bicycles Not Availal le For War,
The use of the bicycle for military
purposes, after having developed with
great rapidity in France, has suddealy
received a check. General Loizillon,
the minister of war, has, it appears, lit-
tle faith in it. He has issued an order
that the cyclist corps are only to be used
on prepared ground.
In time of war, he says, their use,
even if no account is taken of the lia-
bility of the machines to break, is likely
to cause serious miscalculations, and
they can only rarely be substituted for
' men on horseback. The cyclists hence-
| forth, therefore. or until some successor
to General Loizillon more favotable to
them is appointed, will be reserved, by
his instructions, for garrison duty, for
the great maneuvers and in time of war
for certain easy communications at the
rear of the forces.-—London News,
Fortunes From Waste.
Discoveries That Have Recently Been Made in |
Utilizing Refuse Substance. i
The discovery that the leaf of the:
pineapple plant can be wrought into a
serviceable cloth is one of those newly |
found facts that are constantly proving |
how much there is yet to discover in
nature, says the Philadelphia Press.
As the plant is extensively grown in
Florida a new industry in time will
gpring up there, and the producers of
the delicious pineapple will have a new
source of profit at their command.
But it does not speak well for the
boasted inventive genious of Ameri-
caus that the pineapple fiber cloth has
been manufactured for some time in
Central America, and that is now an
article of export.
This is, however only one of the dis-
coveries made in recent years by which
waste material is being utilized. It
would puzzle any one but an expert to
go into a store to-day and tell from
what material a percentage of the
goods are manufactueed. Grass, tim-
ber, sawdust, and other products that
were once rejected as useless are now
saved and put to practical use. The
Hollanders have even discovered how
to convert the peat from bogs into soft
wools which can be spun into cloth,
rugs, and blankets, at half the cost
these goods can be made from wool
grown on the sheep's back. Such a
discovery ought to open before Ireland.
and some other countries the prospect
of a great industry which will increase
their prosperity and commercial im-
portance.
A generation ago there was hardly
a mill of any kind that was not troub-
led with a heap of rubbish or waste
material that it did not know whal to
do with. Silk manufacturers saw the
rise of this heap with annoyance, and
they took it as a tavor if anyone
would cart it away and use it as a fer-
tilizer. An English inventor guessed
at the possibilities in this pile of retuse
and set about inventing machinery to
utilize it. To-day, as a result of his
forethought and genius, 5,000 persons
are employed in making the finest seal
plushes, ribbons, and velvets from the
refuse pile of silk mills, and the inven-
tor has grown rich. The cottonseed
oil industry is a better illustration of
economizing waste, but the dimensions
to which the industry has grown are
not generally known. The annual
product in oil, cake, lint, and hulls
from cotton seed, which a generation
agogwas allowed to rot, is $27,000,000,
and it could be made greater if there
was a market for the product.
The great decrease in the price of
paper comes from the discovery that
nearly everything that grows can be
turned into this useful article. Cotton
stalks, tobacco stalks, the stalks of the
sugar cane, corn stalks, and sawdust
that used to cumber the ground are
now made into cigarette wrappers,
water pails, car wheels, and even build-
ings for temporary purposes. The ex-
traction of dyes from coal tar and the
refuse of refined petroleum has for a
dozen years been one of the wonders of
the chemists art, but they are not the
only things that are obtained from
coal, and science is constantly widen-
ing thelist. The slag of furnaces is
now turned into asbestos, cement, pot-
tery, and fire-brick, and when pulver-
ized becomes a base for paints. The
refuse from woolen mills, which has
contaminated so many streams, has
been found to be valuable for the oil it
contains, and its extraction will not on-
ly profit the inventor but do away with
a nuisance.
The progress made in utilizing
waste material is probably only a be-
ginning of what will be done in this
way. There should, in ‘fact, be no
waste, and invention may yet realize
that wish. It should be an instructive
lesson to those pessimists who imag-
ine that the facilities at the command
of man have been put to their best use
and that no further developmert is
possible. It is more probable that the
resources of nature are as yet only un-
derstood in the crudest way and that
in a mastery over these forces lies the
advancement of the human race.
Why He Never Married.
Not long ago a mature spinster call-
ed upon the famous after-dinner speaker
Mr. Depew, and asked him to give her
some information about real estate.
He said there were two things he knew
nothing about, and they were women
and real estate. This reply amused
her, and she asked him a number of
questions about people whom they
knaw in common. After she pro-
pounded the following questions about
a stammering bachelor she asked no
more, but went her way.
“Where is Mr. Blank, Mr Depew ?’
“He is in the city,” replied the only
Chauncey.”
“Does he stammer as much as
usual ?"
“Oh, yes; worse, I believe,” said the
orator.
“Strange he never married.”
“No, it was unot-strange, dear lady.
Blank courted a lovely girl. He told
me about his courtship several years
after it occurred. He proposed in t his
way :
*¢¢D-d.d-d-dear a-a-angel, I 1-l-l-love
you!’
“You need not proceed further, Mr.
Blank. I do not care to be wooed on
the installment plan,’ said the proud
beauty.” — Washington Post.
——The revival of the overskirts is
creating some attention in the fashion
world. They are being made to fall in
long points, nearly covering the skirt
beneath, one point extending down the
front and another each side of the back.
Skirts without overskirts' will, however,
still remain in favor, and are being worn
plair at the front and sides, with all the
fullness at the back,
——Mrs. U. S. Grant has completed
ber memoirs, to which she has added
notes on the Harrison administration.
The book.is not to be published during
| them respecting the usefulness of the
the author's lite-time,
A Sunflower’s Usefulness,
How the Flant Is Profitably Used by the Rus-
sians,
In return for the corn which Uucle
Sam proposes to teach the Russians
how to eat, it is seriously suggested
that we shall adopt a few hints from
sunflowers There are regions in the
West which might be most profitably
utilized for the cultivation of this plant,
which has been found so valuable for
food purposes in the Empire of the
Czar that 750,000 acres in that country
are annually planted with it. Two
kinds there are chiefly—one which
bears small seeds used for making oil,
while the other produces big seeds,
which are consumed in enormous
quantities by the common people in
the same way that peanuts are eaten
here, except that they are devoured
raw.
There is hardly another plant in the
world which serves so many uses, every
part of it being valuable for one pnr-
pose or another. The oil is so nutri
tious and agreeable in flavor that in
Russia it has to a considerable extent
superceded all other vegetable oils. It
is obtained by passing the seeds be-
neath mill stones, so as to crush the |
shells, sifting them to separate the '
kernels and finally pressing the latter
in bags of horsehair cloth. The cakes
left after the oil has been extracted
are excellent fodder for cattle. The
shells are employed for heaticg, special
ovens being made to burn them, while
the stalks have almost replaced fire-
wood, being gathered and dried in
stacks in the fields. A ton of the lat-
ter is obtained from each acre cultivat.
ed. They make a very hot and quick
fire.
The seed cups are utilized as food
for sheep. A big one when ripe will
yield 2,000 seeds. The largest aad
finest seed cups are selected in the
autumn and hung by their stalks in a
dry place. In the following spring the
seeds are shaken out of them and dried
in ovens for planting. At harvest
time the flowers are gathered as fast as
they are ripe and spread upon the
ground to dry. Then the seeds are
beaten out of them with a small stick
by whipping each cup. Finally the
seeds are dried in the sun or ian kilns
and are sorted by means of screens
into different sizes.
An acre planted with sunflowers
yields 2,000 pounds of seeds, from
which 250 pounds of oil may be ob-
tained. Ten million quarts of this oil
is produced by Russian mills. Who
knows that the time may not yet come
when small boys in this country will
gobble sunflower seeds at the circus
just as they now consume the festive
and odoriferous goober.
Franco-Prussian War Losses.
[n discussing the German army bill
Militaerische Wocheablatt contains a
statement which is said to have never
been published so fully before relative
to losses in the Franco-Prussian war:
According to this paper there fell on
the battlefield or died of their wounds
on the German side 1,881 officers and
26,397 men ; the number of wounded
was 4,239 officers and 84,304 men; of
the missing, 127 officers and 12,257
men, aggregating a total loss of 6,247
officers and 123,453 men.
Among the missing those still miss-
ing or as to whose fate no certain in-
formation has been obtained up to the
year 1892 must be counted among the
dead. These, numbering about 4,000,
and the 17,105 who perished from dis-
ease, bring the total! up to 49,000 Ger-
mans who died for their country during
this memorable war.
On the other side it is estimated that
the French lost 2,900 officers and 136, .
000 men by death, of whom 17,633 died
in German hospitals. There fell of
infantry, at its average strength, 4.47
per cent. ; of cavalry, 1.40 per cent. ; of
artillery, 1.28 per cent., and of the pio-
neers, 37 per cent.
As tothe separate contingents the
Hessians paid dearest with their blood
for the restoration of the unity of the
German empire, losing 5.97 per cent. ;
the Bavarians 5.58 per cent. ; the Sax-
onians 5.40 per ceat.; the Prussians
4.85 per cent.; the Badeners 3,76, and
the Wurtembergers 3.51.
A very large number of German sol-
diers had to be placed upon the invalid
list after the war, numbering 69,895
subalterns and men who were in active
service in 1870-71. This is 6.28 per
cent. of all the German soldiers who
went into the field.
The pension appropriation ot the
German empire amounts to about 500,-
000,000 marks, or $119,000,000, out of
which the wounded and dependent
survivors of the late war receive their
pensions,
Needlessly Embarrassed.
“I must tell you a rather amusing
predicament connected with a rash ven-
ture,’ says Robert Bleim in hig account
of an artist's experience in Japan in
Scribner.
“Right on the edge of the lake is a
little summer house, into which I pop-
ped, pulled off the kimono I was wear-
ing at the time, and plunged into the
water. While I was fooling around, I
saw two Japanese figures take possession
of the pavilion. Fancy.
The water was cold enough before
that, but I imagined it about ten de-
grees colder at once. The Japanese
friend who was with me had gone, and
here I was alone to work out this rather
peculiar problem. Well, I couldn’t
stay in all day, so finally I came out.
Don’t ask me how Idid it, but I did
manage to make it. I managed to work
my way to the pavilion to receive my
belongings from the hands of the pleas-
ant and polite gentleman, not to men-
tion the towel I had to take from the
little woman—needless to say without
fiinding time to use it just then, “The
whole affair appears ridiculously simple
now it is over, and I am afraid I made |
an amusing ass of myself generally in |
their eyes. You see I'm too much of a |
barbarian yet to fall into their fine nat-
ural unconsciousness—too full as yet of
what might be termed artificial West-
ern prudery.
The Engaged Girl,
Her First Meeting With the Parents of the
Man of Her Choice.
“It is all very lovely to become en-
gaged to the man of your choice and
enjoy those blissful moments that
come only oncein alifetime,” remarked
au elderly lady to a writer for the
Louisville Post, “but when the young
fiance has to go through the ordeal of
meeting her intended husband’s parents
then, indeed, isa trying moment that
very tew girls pass through without
remembering very vividly. The bride-
to-be may have been known to the
family for years, and yet when the son
announces to his parents that she is
the girl of his choice and the one whom
he wishes to make his wife, she at
once becomes in a certain degree a
different creature and is criticised ac-
cordingly. No son ever yet married
a woman whom his father thought.
quite good enough for him, though the
outside world may think quite the
contrary. The girl is always looked
upon by the mother as an interloper
who has come between her and her
son's affections. When, therefore, the
young girl is brought in contact with
her fiance’ parents, knowing the innate
antagonism that reigns against her,
she is seldom, if ever, at her best, and
is more apt to court distavor than com-
plimentary comment from his relatives,
simply from the fact that she is half
scared to death, In my experience I
have noticed that much of the trouble
between a mother-in-Jawand her son’s
wife has been due to jealousy, and if
at the very beginning these two could
form a compact of mutual admiration
for the son and husband and mutual
forbearance with each other there
would be fewer family jars.”}
Physical Perfection In a Woman.
The greatest and first essential to
physical perfection in a woman is a
figure without an angular line. Na.
ture avoids angular lines everywhere,
but in the human figure especially. A
perfectly formed woman will stand at
the average height of 5 feet 3 inches to
5 feet 7 inches. She will weigh from
125 to 140 pounds. A plumb line
dropped from a point marked by the
tip of her nose will touch at a point
one inch in front of her great toe. Her
shoulders and her hips will strike a
straight line drawn up aad down. Her
waist will taper gradually to a size on
a line drawn from the outer third of
the collar bone to the hips. Her bust
will measure from 28 to 36 inches.
Her hips will measure from 6 to 10
inches more than this, and her waist -
will call for a belt from 22 to 28 inches.
The arms of the perfectly formed
woman will end at the waist line, so
that she can rest her elbow on a table
while standing erect, and her forearm
should extend to a point permitting
the fingers to mark a point just below
the middle of thigh. Her neck and
thigh should be of about the same cir-
cumference. The calf ot her leg and
arm should measure about the same.
Her legs should be about as long as a
line drawn from her chin to her finger
tips, or about one-half her height, say
from 2 feet 7% inches to 2 feet 9% inches.
She should measure from her waist to
her feet about a foot more than from
her waist to the crown of her head.
Her neck should be from 12 to inches.
around, her head erect and on a line
with the central plane of her body, and
her feet should be of a size and shape
to conform with her hands.—New York
Advertiser.
The Best Kind of Exercise.
Now, why not be exercised? The
Turkish bath is one step in that direc.
tion, and the “floor rest” is another.|
Any woman who is fortunate enough
to command the services of a lady’s
waid or who can call in an attendant
at stated times or can secure the cof
operation of one of her own family can
receive exercise instead of exercising.
When a long and hard day of social or
serious duties is before or behind her,
this royal way of resting the muscles
and stimulating the respiration is good
and most efficacious.
Have a warm blanket or drugget,
kept especially for this purpose, spread
smoothly on the floor. Then get into
loose garments and place yourself at
full length on this hard bed for half an
hour’s manipulation.
While you lie as limp and indiffer-
ent as a rag baby your attendant,
whom vou have previously instructed,
gently rolls and kneads your body, lifts
and drops and twists and swings your
arms and legs.
The head—the body’s fifth limb—
receives much the same treatment that
is given the legs and arms, but should
be handled with special gentleness.
Your own duties consist in first as-
suring yourself that your breathing is
full, free and controlled by the dia-
phragm, and then in surrendering your-
gelt to a nirvanalike indifference to all
things.— Marianna McCann in New
York Press.
The State of Alabama Finds New Em-
ployment for Prison Birds.
The State authorities have devised a .
plan for the employment of the State
convicts sentenced to the penitentiary,
which meets with much approval. For
years the convicts have been leased to
mine operators and others, who worked
them unmercifully and treated them
cruelly. They came in competition with
free labor, and great complaint was
made by the miners and others who had
to work with them.
The State has now purchased 2,500
acres of fertile land on the Louisville
and Nashville Railroad, 15 miles north
of Montgomery. The State proposes
to buy more land of the same character.
Temporary quarters for the convicts are
being built, and the men will be put at
brick-making. The bricks are to be
used in constructing the permanent
prisons and other houses—first, in jrais-
ing a food supply for the prisoners ; sec-
ond, in tilling the land for the profit of
the State; third, in operating industries
of varying characters whereby raw ma
terial may be converted into marketable
form within the State.